Within Time
by Student of Dreams
Summary: There're not many people who could understand what it was like to be forced into the future. It's lucky for Steve that he'd once met a man with a dazzling smile, who just happened to be sticking around for a while. Steve/Jack slash.


**A/N:** This was written for a prompt at AvengerKink over at livejournal, which requested that Jack and Steve meet during WW2 and again after Steve is unfrozen. Slash was optional but I opted for it.  
I've never written anything a Captain America fic before, so I hope there's no glaring problems, and that you all enjoy reading it.

**Within Time**

Steve... wasn't entirely sure what he was looking at.

He'd had a conservative upbringing, always taught to respect others and that there were some lines that shouldn't be crossed. Then when his father had gone off to war Steve had to look after his sick mother. He didn't get time to court women, or even learn what kind of woman he wanted. He had never learnt to dance; it was a little difficult to figure out by himself.

All in all, his biggest problem was that he was severely lacking in sex-ed.

He had seen some confusing things behind the stage of his shows, the most notable being a Hitler with his moustache smudged and blonde chorus-girl bobbing between his legs. However, he never really wanted to see the two decisively male bodies he was now confronted with. One was humming the tune of 'The Star Spangled Man with a Plan' against the other's nipples.

His brain stalled as recognition hit him. "M-Mr. Stark?"

The nipple was released. "Oh, Steven! I didn't see you there."

The man above... yet underneath Stark met Steve's eyes with bright blue eyes and a dazzling smile. Two dimples cheerfully pierced his cheeks as his lips parted.

"Nice tights."

* * *

"His name," Stark later explained, "is Captain Jack Harkness. He's air force; taught me everything I know about flying."

"Okay" Steve mumbled as his neck heated up in remembrance. He kept his head down, the bread on the end of his long fork becoming extremely interesting. In light of recent events, Steve was glad that Stark's offer to show him the finer things meant forcing him to try fondue. And _infinitely_ relieved that fondue meant cheese.

Howard Stark chuckled. "You're taking this surprisingly well. Many aren't all that accepting of that kind of deal." He shrugged, "But not Jack, and that's what I can't figure out. He's perfectly capable of being with women, and he could just live happily away from judgement, but he doesn't. He doesn't care." Stark skewered another piece of bread. "I'm a genius, my friend, and that's not just my personal opinion, but Harkness confuses the heck out of me. I can't figure him out, and I am determined to find out what makes him tick... for science, of course."

"With respect, Mr. Stark, _that_ didn't look like any science I've ever seen."

Stark chuckled and clasped Steve on the shoulder. "Pal, we all have that image of the perfect woman in our minds: Brown eyes, long legs etc. But then someone comes along and, darn it, everything we thought we wanted gets thrown out the window."

Frowning, Steve tried to wrap his head around the concept. "And that's Jack?"

"That's Jack."

* * *

Pacing the hall, Steve tried to remember at what point he went from follower to leader. It hadn't been something to come with the transformation, the chemicals only affecting his body not his personality. In fact, he had promised that his personality _wouldn't _change. He had promised a dear friend, who was now lost thanks to his actions.

It wasn't something he could properly fathom; Him as a leader.

Then a hand fell on his shoulder and Steve spun around, surprised at having been snuck up on.

"Steven, right?"

Jack Harkness presented himself, fully dressed this time. A long, heavy coat sat confidently on his shoulders, making him looking respectfully unkempt as he grinned and ran a hand through his hair.

"Captain," Steve saluted, because he felt he should.

Harkness chuckled. "You really don't need to do that; you're Captain America."

"It's... not an official rank."

"Be that as it may, you seem to own it well enough. Don't shy away from it."

Steve swallowed. Harkness's eyes shone with knowledge he shouldn't have, and Steve wondered for a moment if the man in front of him was another human experimentation like him. Creating a mind-reader probably wasn't beyond the realm of Stark's capabilities... Maybe that was what Stark had meant when he spoke of Jack and science.

"Mr. Stark is in a meeting at the moment." He deflected quickly, "I'm not sure when he'll be done, but you're welcome to wait."

Jack smiled that smile again. The one with the dimples. "Actually," he ran his eyes over Steven's new uniform, as if he could see to the body underneath. "I came here to meet you. Officially."

Not used to being looked at in that way, Steve flushed. "N-No offence, Captain Harkness, but I think Mr. Stark and I might have different tastes in... ermm...people."

"I'm not going to jump you. Although, I don't think anyone could blame me." Another smile, "I just thought I'd give you something." He passed over a slip of folded paper. "You'll know what it means when the time comes, so don't worry too much about it yet."

Steve unfolded the note. It started _4.7.2010_, but was followed by a longer, second line of random numbers.

"...Thank you?"

"Like I said; don't worry about it."

* * *

It wasn't until Steve picked up a newspaper, two days after being defrosted, that he realized what those numbers meant. He had kept the paper on him and somehow it had survived being frozen, and consequentially had been confiscated by S.H.I.E.L.D so that they could determine what it was made of.

By the time a copy of the message had gotten back to him, it was two days after the date Captain Harkness had supplied and he hoped he could decipher what the other string of numbers meant.

Nick Fury, however, solved that for him almost immediately.

"It's a cell phone number, one with a UK sim-card."

Steve blinked, "Am I allowed to call it?" He asked, not entirely sure of his rights as a 'guest' of Fury and a defrostee.

"Of course you can, you're not a prisoner... We'll have to monitor your call though."

"Why?"

"Because that's Jack Harkness's number."

* * *

"_Hello_?" It was a male voice, thick with a Welsh accent and very much not Captain Harkness.

"Hi, this is Steve Rogers. I got this number from a Jack Harkness about seventy years ago. I... don't really know why."

"_One moment please, Captain_."

"_Steven_!" American accent. Definitely Harkness this time, and definitely not sounding like the 110 year-old he should be. "_You're late, but I suppose cryogenic freezing is a little bit more unpredictable when it's not induced bio-chemically_."

"... What?"

"_Never mind. So, you've had a few days to warm up?_'

"I have," Steve lent back in the desk chair, acutely aware of the dozen eyes watching him, several with headphones listening into and supposably recording everything that was being said. "It's still a little strange."

A deep chuckle came across the line, one that reminded Steve of blue eyes and dimples, and brought the first honest smile to his face since being frozen. "_If you found it normal I would worry. I assume you been snatched up by some not-so-secret military operation. Are they treating you alright?_"

Steve glanced around at the nameless faces. "It's... They've been fine."

"_Because, you know, you could always come and join my not-so-secret organization._"

With that statement there was a horrible silence in the room. Even the people trying to track the call on screens of movement stopped.

"_... Does Fury look like he's about to burst a blood vessel?_"

"Eeerm," Steve glanced up, and answered with a confident "Yes."

"_Well he doesn't have to worry. 'Captain Wales' doesn't really have the same ring to it. We'd have to redesign the outfit and believe me when I say I love that outfit just as it is_." Dimples again.

Feeling awkward and out of his depths, Steve flailed slightly before finding something to say. "I was sorry to hear about Stark."

"_So was I. We didn't see much of each other after your... death. I carried him through the grief and then he met Martha. It was for the best really_."

"I'm sorry. Again." Although Steve didn't really know much about Harkness's and Stark's relationship, he could hear the well-worn resignation in the other Captain's voice. Steve hadn't asked how, exactly, Harkness was still alive, but the amount of loss that had come flippantly through the phone-line was enough to tell Steve that didn't want to know.

"_Howard told me about you and Peggy back in the day. I'm sorry you missed out on that_."

"It's..." Steve froze. It's what, exactly? Not okay, definitely not okay.

"_I know,_" came the soft reply.

* * *

An apartment, a collection of encyclopaedias, a large stack of newspapers and something called a 'credit card'; that was what S.H.I.E.L.D had given him. They'd left him some notes about specific points of history to look up; some were inventions or changes in government.

Most of it was about wars. Steve felt too sick to read it.

There were instructions on how to use the card and directions to the nearest store. Steve had ventured down there once, but returned with nothing. There were so many different items on the shelves he didn't know what most of them were. The items he did know came in multitudes of types, with different qualities, that they were hardly recognizable anyway.

The apartment had come equipped with some bread, milk in a plastic container, little packets of sugar and some instant coffee mix. There was nothing there that could satisfy Steve's fast metabolism, but he was far too overwhelmed to go back to the store.

Three days into his self-imposed apartment isolation, feeling dizzy and hungry, he answered the door to Jack Harkness.

He looked exactly as he did the day Steve had met him. The only difference was his sparkle had dimmed slightly, deep concern replacing it in his eyes. He had several bulging plastic bags in his arms and a knapsack over his shoulder.

"Steve! Can I come in?"

The bedroom was bright, the furniture with too many corners. For the first time since arriving in the future, Steve had been able to sleep. He was curled duvets, not blankets, while Jack lay next to him, settled above the covers and looking no less knowledgeable asleep than he did in waking hours.

They had talked nearly the entire night, Steve finally feeling calm and satisfied thanks to the food Jack had supplied.

Jack had told him about another man who fallen through time from the fifties, who hadn't been able to cope with the pace and seeing his loved ones dead or decrepit around him. The words, Steve had noted, weren't as important as the pain and understanding that had shown on Jack's face. Jack had barely known this man, spending less than a week with him, and yet had felt so strongly about the man's plight.

Then he'd spoken of a young woman, Emma-Louise, who had looked to the future rather than mourning the present. She'd built a beautiful career with opportunities that would never have been available in her own time.

Steve had slept deeply, wearing himself out through contemplation rather than physical exertion. He'd decided that holding onto the past, to a certain degree, was what was going to help him through. He wouldn't search the wedding announcements or obituaries for Peggy Carter, like he had originally planned. If she had moved on, or dies, it wasn't going to help him.

He would hold onto, however, Howard Stark and Dr Erskine. He needed to respect their vision for him, their friendship, and continue to live and adapt in this new century.

Dr Erskine had made him promise never to change. He was going to have to if he was going to live long enough to help anyone, and Steve was starting to believe that Erskine might be able to forgive him for that.

Jack had bought him an electric waffle iron. As a thank you Steve was going to learn how to use it before the sleeping captain woke.

* * *

"I've got to go back to the UK."

"Oh," Steve looked up from the punching bag and to Jack who had holding it steady for him, not flinching in the face of Steve's advanced strength, "Why?"

"Something was stolen from S.H.I.E.L.D, and the higher-ups are afraid it might lead to something much bigger. They're not telling me much but I should get back home in case it reaches there."

"...Oh."

Jack let the bag fall from his grasp and walked around so that he could put a hand on Steve's shoulder. "I'm sorry I have to leave, but you still have my number, and you've got my address so you could send me a letter." He smiled, "I'd be nice to get real mail again."

Steve chuckled and moved to embrace Jack, knowing the other man wouldn't mind his shirtless and sweaty state. He buried his face into the immortal's neck, not wanting to part with his last link to the past.

"People in this century move to fast," Jack mumbled, "And I'm sorry to say it's just going to get worse, but trust me, no one's happier because of it." They pulled apart, Jack putting hands on both sides of Steve's neck and pressing their foreheads together. "Promise me you won't try to move too fast just because everyone else is."

Steve promised and pressed his lips to Jack's.


End file.
